


Getting Ready for a Fall that Could Save You

by J (j_writes)



Category: Sports Night, Wilby Wonderful (2004)
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 18:44:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_writes/pseuds/J
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here, life shut down at 9:30 and didn't start up again until the sun rose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Ready for a Fall that Could Save You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Catwalksalone.

In New York, when he couldn't sleep, he walked.

There was something comforting about living in a place where even at three in the morning in the middle of the winter, there were cars driving by on the street, and people jogging on the sidewalks. It was usually the same midnight joggers, and they would nod at him from under their woolen caps and flapping scarves as they passed.

Here, life shut down at 9:30 and didn't start up again until the sun rose.

Most nights that didn't bother him, because he slept better here than he ever had in the city. The first night it had been too quiet, and he'd sat awake with his phone in his hand, dialing a number over and over again but never pressing the talk button. After that, it got easier, and now he was used to the island quiet, used to falling asleep to nothing but the ticking of his clock and the sounds of the breeze.

But some nights he wrote into the late hours, when the rest of the town was sleeping, and when he finished he was too wired to go to sleep. Those nights, he would walk, just like he did in the city.

Here, he walked alone.

There was only one time when he had ever seen another living soul on these nighttime walks, and he never talked about that. Neither of them did. He would see him sometimes, around town, in the diner, on the street, and they'd nod at each other as if these brief momentary encounters were all they had ever shared.

And maybe, in a way, they were. After all, that night was just another brief momentary encounter, of a sort.

Writing had been hard that day, for whatever reason. Some days it was like pulling teeth, especially now that he was working on a book, and working alone. He and Casey had always wanted to write a book, but they'd never gotten around to it, and when he left New York it seemed like the best thing to do with himself.

That night, he'd forced out a few pages, but had given up sometime after the citizens of Wilby were long asleep, and he'd gone for a walk.

When he walked, he never thought about Casey.

He thought about him the rest of the time…when he woke in the morning and slowly remembered that he was no longer in New York, no longer on Sports Night. When he was working, during the day, researching sports stories they had reported together. When he sprawled out under the sheets at night, trying not to remember the way Casey's lips had tasted, the way they had felt against his, that one stolen time.

But at night, after working, Dan didn't have the energy to think about him. It was one of the many deals he made with himself in order to make this existence tolerable.

So that night, he was standing by the water, tossing rocks into it and making a list of things he missed about New York (platonic things, inanimate things, things that had nothing to do with Casey whatsoever), when he saw the guy.

He was standing in the trees, half hidden, leaning against one and watching him. Not in a creepy stalker sort of way, just standing there and watching, like Dan was the one who had intruded on his alone time, rather than the other way around.

"Hey," Dan said with an awkward wave in the guy's direction, and he nodded back. "I didn't mean to…" Dan waved a hand at the ocean and trailed off. "I'll just…go." He turned back in the direction he'd come from.

"You don't have to," he heard behind him, quiet, unexpected. Dan turned back around to face the guy, and he came a little further out of the shadow of the trees. "If you don't want."

And Dan found that he didn't want to. This was the first person he'd ever come across after night fell on the town, and it seemed like a waste just to walk away without even introducing himself. "I'm Dan Rydell," he said, stepping close enough to shake hands. The guy hesitated a moment or two before reaching out to take it.

"Duck," he said, and it took Dan a moment to realize that it was apparently his name. His grip was cool, firm. "So. You're new here."

Dan nodded, a little uneasy. Wilby was a nice town, but he'd already figured out that it was going to take people a while to really warm up to him. They didn't take too kindly to outsiders here.

"So how did you hear about…" Duck waved a hand at the beach.

"This place?" Dan asked, and Duck gave a small nod. "I live…" he gestured off in the direction he'd come from, "just up there. I walk down here a lot."

"Ah." Duck's hand moved up his arm. "C'mere," he said, nodding back towards the trees, and Dan blinked, confused. Duck's fingers tightened on his shoulder. "C'mere," he said again, smiling this time, strangely beautiful in the moonlight.

Dan followed him back into the trees. "What?" he asked when they'd retreated into the darkness, and he heard Duck laugh softly before he felt soft lips closing against his own, hands resting against his hips through his jeans.

He jerked backwards, pulling away instinctively, but his back bumped up against a tree and Duck followed, kissing him again, still lightly, giving Dan the option to push him away, to reject him. Dan didn't.

"Hey," he breathed when Duck pulled back, reaching up to rest a hand against Duck's chest. "I didn't…" he didn't know how to finish the thought, but it didn't seem to matter, because Duck's fingers were sliding under the hem of his t-shirt, brushing the skin of his stomach, making him tremble. Duck leaned in to kiss him again, and this time Dan met him halfway, lips parting, kissing back, letting one of his hands slide around to rest against the back of Duck's neck.

Dan was no stranger to anonymous sex, but those days had been years ago for him, and they'd happened in club bathrooms and back alleys. This had been the last thing he'd expected when he'd left for a walk on an island beach in the middle of the night.

But god, it was good to feel someone warm and eager against him, to feel hot panting breath against his cheek, fingers not his own fumbling with his belt buckle, opening his jeans.

He let out a gasp as his pants and boxers were peeled out of the way and a rush of cold air swept across him, but it turned into a moan when Duck slid down the length of his body and swallowed Dan into his hot mouth.

His hips jerked up off the tree, thrusting helplessly, and when he looked down and saw Duck watching him, lips parted around Dan's cock, it was just too much to take, and Dan came, embarrassingly fast, biting his lip to keep from crying out in the silent night air.

He tipped his head back against the tree and closed his eyes as Duck stood and zipped him up. Duck turned to go, but Dan grabbed his hand, turned him back around.

"Don't you want…" he started, but Duck shook his head.

"I'm good," he said.

"I didn't come here to…"

"I know."

They stood there for a long time, Dan's fingers wrapped around Duck's wrist, just looking at each other. Finally, Dan leaned in and kissed the edge of Duck's mouth, soft and quick, and let him go. Duck stood there for a moment, shifting his feet awkwardly as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he just nodded a goodbye at Dan and disappeared into the trees.

Dan walked nearly every night since then, whether he was having trouble sleeping or not.

He hadn't seen Duck since, except during the day, in the town, and then it was always the same…that little half smile, that polite nod.

But still he walked.

And he waited.


End file.
